


Remembrance

by Chiri_chan



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cygate - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Aid, Hurt No Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Other, Sad One-Shot, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (IDW), i hope you get hit with the feels as much as I did, like for real, ratchet - Freeform, reallly sad, sorta - Freeform, you blink and you miss them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiri_chan/pseuds/Chiri_chan
Summary: AU of what could have happened if things had gone a little differently after.MTMTE 15 (slight spoilers}Small preview-"It is nothing you need to concern yourself over." Cyclonus says firmly."Is that going to be your answer for everything?"Cyclonus is silent once more and Tailgate ex-vents sharply in annoyance, only for it to cause his vents to start violently trying to expunge contaminants making the mini-bot shake horribly with each shuddering, forceful burst of air. When his vents finally stop their sudden bout of self-maintenance, Tailgate becomes aware of the fact that they had stopped in the middle of the hallway and Cyclonus was repeatedly calling his name, each repeat with increased urgency as his arms grasped the mini tightly and Tailgate reset his visor a few times before looking up at him with bright embarrassment.





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> The Cygate Angst™  
> For Uniformshark on tumblr, thanks for all the awesome content!
> 
> Based on this picture by Uniformshark (blog has nsfw so be safe)
> 
> http://uniformshark.tumblr.com/post/51661326807/i-hope-that-sadistic-anon-is-happy-now  
> (spoilers for MTMTE 15)  
> P.s. cross-posted on my sisters wattpad as well as mine.

Tailgate onlines sluggishly feeling a throbbing pain throughout his entire frame, for a while his processor just drifts, not truly thinking anything, as his systems one by one begin to reluctantly initialize. The first thing to power on are his audials and the only sounds are his sickly wheezing in-vents and rattling ex-vents and a soft, rumbling voice on his right side in the silence of the room that he vaguely recalls is his berth-room aboard the ship called the... the something. 

As more of his internal systems online and some of the fog in his processor clears it registers that he would only be in this much pain if he was injured, and he feels a familiar panic start to seep in and tries to push through the haze to figure out how he came to be here. He begins to fight with all his flimsy strength through his still hazy processor to access the elusive memory of how he landed himself in somewhere that he has no recollection of, but its like attempting to force his way through an impenetrable wall and, as his vents start to heave and servos begin to shake with effort and fear of being stuck without any memory of why he was here, the strain becomes too much for his exhausted systems and he loses his tenuous grip on semi-consciousness and he begins to fall offline once more. But before the darkness can take him, he feels something lightly take hold of his servo and softly brush and cup the side of his mask as the low, soothing baritone voice begins speaking closer to his audial and Tailgate desperately seizes the connection to the world outside his processor and lets the Voice and comforting touches anchor him as his systems slowly initialize.

Eventually he cycles up enough that his systems begin to listen to his commands and Tailgate weakly onlines his visor, but as soon as the soft, dim glow from his visor lights up the semi-darkness of the berth-room the soothing Voice quiets and the soft touches to his face-mask pull away. Tailgate feels fear seize his spark as he suddenly thinks the Voice will leave him alone in the oppressive silence of the berth-room with only the few memory's that had slipped through the fog to keep him company and frantically, he turns his helm to the Voice beside him and feels the, what he now vaguely identifies as a servo, abruptly still and quickly twists his servo over to weakly grasp at the frozen one before it could try to slip away again.

A small desperate whine escapes Tailgates vocalizer as he attempts to focus his straining, flickering, static filled optics on the purple blob by his bedside and, as panic takes hold and his vents once more start to heave with feeble rattles and wheezes, he squeezes the other servo frantically as he tries to make his aching frame move, causing pain to flare up anew as his frame starts to twitch and jerk spastically in response to the command, but lacking the strength to actually lift anything .  
When even that garners no response his vocalizer begins to make tiny clicking noises as he tries desperately to force it to online so he can plead the Voice not to leave him. But, before Tailgate could start to damage himself with his thrashing, the servo in his softly but firmly grips Tailgates shaking one back and starts to rub calming circles and the other servo begins to pet his helm, as the Voice began to speak once more. Tailgate slowly allows the Voice to soothe his rapidly pulsing spark, focusing on the deep baritone as he calms enough to stop attempting to online his vocalizer and allow it to boot-up on its own. After some time passes he realizes his optics had offlined themselves as he lost the concentration to keep them on and, as it washes over and through him, The Voice steadily comes into focus.

"-ight Tailgate I am not going anywhere, please do not harm yourself. Would you like it if started singing again? Tailgate, are you still online?"

Tailgate onlines his visor again with some effort and looks over at the Voice as its owner slowly swims into focus.

As his visual feed clears he makes out a tall, purple and silver mech with a single, silver horn standing proudly on top of his helm, the mech is sitting beside Tailgates helm with his chair angled toward the center of Tailgates frame. The purple mech is slightly hunched over Tailgates small frame as he looks intently at his visor with deep concerned ruby optics and, Tailgate notices with a jolt of surprise, three diagonal scars cut deeply into his otherwise stoic face. As Tailgate study's the mech before him he feels a sense of familiarity overcome him, but when he reaches for the details they slip through his servos and for a moment, he fears that he won't be able to reach past the fog clouding his memory cortex and remember this mech that he knows deep in his spark is very important to him. When suddenly the purple and silver mech opens his mouth-

"Tailgate? Are you online?"

-and the fog thins and opens enough for memory's to begin to slip through and in the sudden influx the mechs designation becomes clear.

"Cy-Cyclonus? Wh-what happ-pened t-to your face? Ar-re you a-alright? Wha-at hap-happened to m-me? Where are w-we?" Tailgate stutters, his voice glitchy and full of static, causing Tailgate to dim his visor in annoyance and reboot his vocalizer a few times to try to get rid of it.

He focuses back on Cyclonus' face-plate as it softens for a moment in relief before becoming a blank mask as he leans back in his chair, taking the servo on Tailgates helm with him and the digit making soft circles on the back of Tailgates servo stilling, and glances briefly at the door before turning back to face Tailgate fully.

"It is nothing you need to concern yourself over Tailgate," He says calmly, gently squeezing Tailgates servo, "But, if you are feeling up to it, I would like to take you somewhere."

Tailgates visor brightens slightly in confusion as he looks around the room half expecting another mech to be there, but as it becomes evident that they are the only ones there, he turns back to Cyclonus and says in a voice thankfully glitch free, if with a small undercurrent of static, "Sure, I don't mind but I don't think it'll go over well with.. um... with someone... uh... he's a, um, a medic...I think..." Tailgates visor dims as his processor begins to throb and his servos tighten as he struggles to remember the designation of the medic, who even as he thinks about him, becomes more and more a vague smug of colors and less an actual, living mech.

Cyclonus squeezes Tailgates servo again, more firmly this time, and pulls him out of his circling thoughts. "I have already gotten permission from Ratchet for this outing if you feel you are up to it," He says gently, his digit softly stroking the back of Tailgates servo again.

The picture in Tailgates processor solidifies into something more crisp for a moment before it fades away, the details about the mech out of reach beyond the fog in his memory cortex.  
"R-right, Ratchet, I, uh, I knew that." Tailgate tries to move and shifts slightly, feeling his frame send a jolt of pain with the movement, but he ignores it in favor of the relief it is to finally be able to move. "I think so, but it hurts a bit to move and I don't think i'm gonna be able to walk anywhere."

Cyclonus gives him a small, fleeting smile, "You will not be required to walk, I will carry you there."

Tailgate visor brightens in shock and embarrassment as he quickly tries to sit up and protest, "B-but you don't have to-"

"Shh, Tailgate, I am the one who asked you while you are unable to move properly, so I will carry you to where we are going." Cyclonus says as he gently pushes Tailgate back onto the berth, standing up from his chair and moving to stand directly beside him before easily scooping up the blue and white mini-bot and tucking him securely against his chassis, one arm beneath his knee-joints and the other just below his shoulder guards on his back.

Tailgate ducks his helm as his visor blazes in mortification as Cyclonus walks calmly out of the berth-room and begins a brisk pace down the hallway. They pass few mecha on their way to wherever it is that Cyclonus is bringing them, but the few they do pass look away the klik they realize who they're looking at and each and every one of their face-plates twist into an angry, grief filled grimace. Though none of the mechs wore a more frustrated, spark breakingly grief stricken expression, than that of a boxy red and white mech with medic crosses on his shoulder guards holding a data-pad in one servo while the other is frozen mid gesture at a smaller red and white medic, who's visor flares brightly before his helm whips away, his small shoulders beginning to tremble the moment he spots Tailgate and Cyclonus, But while the small medic didn't seem to be able to look at the pair, the larger medic couldn't seem to tear his optics off of Tailgate. As they pass the medics Tailgate peers around Cyclonus' arm just in time to see the larger medic throw down and break the data-pad as he throws the side of his fist into the wall beside him and bury's his helm into his servo, his shoulders starting to shake uncontrollably as he seems to crumple into himself. The smaller medic quickly grabs his onto his arm and begins to murmurers something quietly to him before the large medic suddenly roars.

"WHAT'S THE POINT OF SURVIVING THIS WHOLE FRAGGING WAR IF I CAN'T SAVE THE LAST SLAGGING INNOCENT MECH LEFT!? WHAT'S THE FRAGGING POINT OF KNOWING SO MUCH IF I CAN'T CURE ONE DISEASE?! WHAT... what is the point if I still fail when it matters most..." He trails off as the small mech wraps his arms around him and Cyclonus turns the next corner before either of them say anymore.

"Cyclonus, who were they and what was the big medic talking about? Why is everyone looking at us like that?" Tailgate asks, his visor squinting at his lap and confusion, concern and fear fighting for dominance in his voice. He tries once more to push through the fog and gets a brief flicker of the large medic before it slips away once more, "Is- is this the ark? Did something happen when we took off? Is something wrong with m-"

"It is nothing you need to concern yourself over." Cyclonus says firmly, his servos tightening around Tailgate and his mouth a deep frown. Tailgate just looks up at the larger mech, his visor dimming in irritation as he crosses his arms.

"Is that going to be your answer for everything?"

Cyclonus is silent once more and Tailgate ex-vents sharply in annoyance, only for it to cause his vents to start violently trying to expunge contaminants making the mini-bot shake horribly with each shuddering, forceful burst of air. When his vents finally stop their sudden bout of self-maintenance, Tailgate becomes aware of the fact that they had stopped in the middle of the hallway and Cyclonus was repeatedly calling his name, each repeat with increased urgency as his arms grasped the mini tightly and Tailgate reset his visor a few times before looking up at him with bright embarrassment.

"Um, that was surprising. Sorry about that Cyclonus I don't know why that happened." Tailgate says sheepishly.

"It's alright Tailgate, no harm done." He says with long, relieved ex-vent. He looks down at the mini-bot searchingly for a long moment before giving his helm a slight shake and taking off again, somehow going faster while still maintaining a relaxed looking stride.

The rest of the brisk walk is passed in somewhat comfortable silence as Cyclonus focuses on getting to their destination and Tailgate begins to drift into a light recharge, lulled by the rocking of Cyclonus' pede-steps. Tailgate next onlines when he feels something attach to his spinal-strut and he looks up at Cyclonus questioningly.

"We are going outside, so I am giving you a magnetizer in order to make sure you do not float off." He says quietly as he softly places Tailgate on the floor, leaning him against a wall, right beside a door that Tailgate realizes must be the airlock. "Do you think you will be able to walk to the edge of the ship? I do not believe it's too far."

Tailgate tries to stretch out his legs and when they seem to respond well without giving off too much pain, he gingerly begins to push himself up away from the floor, using the wall behind him as support as he gets his trembling legs underneath him. Cyclonus hovers closely as Tailgate takes a deep, careful, in-vent and slowly pushes away from the wall, letting his legs gradually support his full frame weight. When he's able to stand for more than a few kilks and his legs don't feel as though they are about to give out from under him, and the shaking has lessened to something a little less like a natural disaster, he give Cyclonus a nervous but decisive nod.

"I think I can do it."

"Good, I will be able to support you while we are out there, but I cannot pick you up as your plating must be in contact with the hull in order for the magnetizer to do it's work." Cyclonus says softly as he places his servo on Tailgates spinal strut, activates the magnetizer and guides him through the airlock.

Tailgate almost trips over his pedes as he stares around in bright visored awe at the heavens suddenly surrounding them. It looked as though they were passing by a huge gas cloud, it's semi-transparent swirling colors almost entirely covering the open space over the side of the ship. The cloud was mostly turquoise with splashes of magenta, electric blue and smudges of a deeper green all spinning in the deep darkness of space surrounded by billions of stars.

Tailgate completely looses track of his surroundings as he stares into the beautiful, sparkling swirl of colors and before he knows it he is being guided to sit on the very edge of the ship with the other mech taking a seat by his left side.

They sit quietly for a while, Tailgate letting himself become completely immersed in the spectacle in front of him. Eventually, after some unidentifiable amount time passes, he resets his visor a few times before turning and pointing at the purple and silver mech beside him.

"So, what are we doing here?" Tailgate questions, his helm tilting slightly as he stares quizzically at the other mech.

"Enjoying the view." The purple mech says plainly, not taking his optics off the cloud.

"It really is pretty." Tailgate agrees easily, but even as he looks at the gas cloud the colors begin to bleed together and even resetting his visor doesn't get rid of the distortion, "My sight is slightly blurry though..." he mumbles eventually.

As he continues to try to fix his visor he starts to let his thoughts wander and once again begins to wonder why he was here, and also where he was, and what he was doing there and who those mechs were and what was that song that kept repeating over and over just through the fog.  
Tailgate reaches up and grips his helm as it begins to throb in earnest, the rest of his frame seeming to decide to start sending its complainants as well as his whole frame starts to send pulses of pain through his sensor-net.

"Argh.. I'm sorry... there are so many things I can't remember, but I have this song stuck in my head." Tailgate mutters tightening his servos on his helm as it pounds with pain as he tries to break through the fog so he can just remember that stupid song-

His entire frame jumps in shock when a deep baritone suddenly gives voice to the song and Tailgates visor flares excitedly as he points at the other mech, his other servo letting go of his helm and splaying just beside his face-mask, "Yes!!! That one! How did you know?" He asks eagerly as he sets his servos on the edge and leans in closer. But in the short silence that follows Tailgate abruptly realizes something and leans away slightly, looking down at the others servos ashamed at his forgetfulness.

"Um... wow this is really embarrassing... but what is your name again?" Tailgate asks timidly glancing up from under his visor ridge to see the others face.

The purple and silver mechs face-plate becomes a somber mask, something unreadable flickering in his optics as he stares down into the abyss of space below us. His optics stay fixed on whatever point that had drawn his attention as he slowly reaches out with his large, clawed servo and gently grasps the tiny, slightly trembling one.

"A friend."

**Author's Note:**

> Welp i'm sad now, it's 2 am and I still have a sink full of dishes to do.  
> Oh well (ノ#-_-)ノ  
> I hope this made you just as sad reading it as i felt making it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
